


Campus

by MarauderCracker



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: College AU, M/M, Mildly drunk make-outs, alcohol cw, frat boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 17:00:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4529934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarauderCracker/pseuds/MarauderCracker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're lucky frat boys are so hot," Mason says, glaring at Liam. There's a dude wearing fake locs and something that looks like brown lipstick covering half of his face, pretending to be Bob Marley. He's the walking, stumbling drunk embodiement of why Mason didn't want to join a fraternity. "Ya know, most of them. Not that one."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Campus

**Author's Note:**

> So, this one anon asked for Brett/Mason bubble bath and at first I didn't think I'd do it because it sounded... I don't know, sexual? And, I don't know, they are the youngest actors in a cast full of people in their late twenties, so I'm not really comfy with being twenty-one and writing about these kids. But then I remembered some drunked shenanigans with friends and this ridiculous idea came to my mind. I kept it G-rated, but I still wrote a college AU because college AUs are great.

"You're lucky frat boys are so hot," Mason says, glaring at Liam. There's a dude wearing fake locs and something that looks like brown lipstick covering half of his face, pretending to be Bob Marley. He's the walking, stumbling drunk embodiement of why Mason didn't want to join a fraternity. "Ya know, most of them. Not that one."

Liam grins at him, trying to put on his most innocent smile. He's here because he's crushing on one of the sorority girls who co-organized this party, and Mason is here because he lost at rock-paper-scissors. That, and he's the best roommate and best friend that Liam could ask for. Mason's made sure to remind him of this fact at least three times on their way to the party. 

"I can't see Hayden anywhere," Liam complains, standing on his tip toes to try and look above the crowd. He fails to see anything, and looks like he's about to start jumping. Before he can embarrass himself too much, Mason grabs him by the elbow and drags him in the direction of the kitchen. He's going to need capital "A", Alcohol if he's trying to survive an entire night of annoying straight dudes and Macklemore songs.

He actually does have fun for a while, though. Not as much as he'd have if they were drinking rum and coke and playing video games back in the dorm, but he hasn't gone out much in the past few weeks --he was busy preparing midterms, working on this ridiculous comparative study of werewolf mythologies around the world that he set out to do "for fun" and now can't drop, and marathoning Buffy The Vampire Slayer with Liam-- so the change of vibe is cool. Aside from the obligatory rich white people " _rap_ " (Liam laughs at his face when he says this), some of the music is actually good, the frat boys playing drinking games are truly comedic gold and everyone is hot as hell.

"Hot guy by the door," Liam points out, nodding in his direction. Mason looks up --if Liam wasn't mooning over Hayden Romero, that'd be the starter of some ridiculous ' _five bucks I get him to dance with me_ ' bet-- but he's quickly disappointed. Of course, the guy is indeed hot. But--

"That's Lucas, he's got a boyfriend."

Liam pouts, but Mason's already distracted. A guy --tall, broad shoulders, cute grin-- is standing at the kitchen door, talking to someone out of sight.

"Oh, God, not him. He's not hot," Liam says, and Mason realizes he's been staring. He looks back at his friend, eyebrows raised. Liam scrunches his nose. "He's a douchebag. Like,  _the biggest_ douchebag. Trust-fund asshole with a flashy car. Not that hot."

"Not that hot?" Mason asks, smiling at Liam --who's glaring at the dude  _very intently_. He'd agree if Liam had said 'not that pretty', but not hot? That's just lying. "What's his name?"

"Brett something," Liam huffs. "Who cares." Mason's eyes keep drifting back to the boy until he steps back into the kitchen and out of his sight. Liam's frown lasts until he finally spots his crush.

* * *

Mason's a little buzzed. He's been dancing with some of the sorority girls --and with Lucas and his boyfriend, who he takes Gender Studies with-- and he's winded as hell. He stumbles on the second step of the stairs --okay, he's, like,  _mildly_  drunk-- and turns back to look around the room with a little leverage. Liam and Hayden are in the center of a circle that the crowd's opened just for them, taking tequila shots as a bunch of frat boys and girls count them and cheer. Mason hopes neither of them will do anything stupid, and gets back to climbing the stairs. It's kind of a struggle --the flashing lights in the main room made him a little dizzy-- but he leans a little on the wall and makes it safely to the first floor.

He feels better as soon as he's far from the music and annoying blinking blue lights, and soon spots the half-open bathroom door down the hallway. He really wants to splash some cold water on his face. He steps inside the bathroom, and goes to step in front of the counter. He's got pink lipstick on his cheek --that was probably Caitlin-- and a wine stain on the front of his t-shirt. Fuck, he loves this shirt. The stain is still wet, so he pulls it off and opens the cold water (he remembers that salt is best for wine stains, but he's not about to go into a kitchen full of drunk strangers to try and get some salt, he doesn't love the shirt  _that_  much). He still lets the water run over the stain, hoping it'll at least fade a little.

"Uh, sorry," someone says, startling Mason. He turns around, wet shirt in hand, and finds the hot dude (Brian? Ben?) with an almost full bottle of sparkling wine on one hand, looking like he wants to turn around and run away. "Is that wine?"

"Uh, yeah?" Mason answers, looking down at the shirt. He shrugs. "I was trying to save it, but I don't think it's going to come out," he says, and winces. He notices that his words are a little slurred, and hopes the guy doesn't notice.

"Y'know, Greenberg down the hall keeps a lot of food in his room. He probably has salt there. Salt is what you use for wine stains, right?"

* * *

"That should do it, I just gotta let it sit for a while," Mason says, leaving the shirt on the sink, and smiles at the guy --his name is actually Brett, and Mason makes a mental note to tell Liam that he's really nice. He smiles back, and picks the sparkling wine back from where it's resting on top of the medicine cabinet.

"To a successful rescue," he says, takes a drink and hands the bottle to Mason. It's ridiculous, and it only makes him smile even more.

"Cheers," he replies, and drinks too. Searching this Greenberg dude's room for salt took long enough that Mason feels almost fully sober again, so he's not worried about drinking a little more. Or a lot more. He takes a long swig, hoping that it'll wash away the general embarrassment about being shirtless around one of the hottest guys in this entire party.

He then hands the bottle back to Brett, and says "I should let you get back to the party," though it's the last thing he'd want to say. The guy shrugs.

"I actually was making a quit retreat because all the brothers" --he rolls his eyes as he says 'brothers'-- "were trying to hook me up with one of the sisters," he answers, looking a little annoyed. A little voice in Mason' s head comments 'that doesn't sound like a very straight thing to say', but he makes an effort to ignore it.

"No offense, but frat boys suck," Mason jokes, and Brett laughs. He moves to sit on the border of the bathtub, and takes another drink of wine. Mason leans on the border of the sink, glad that now he doesn't have to look up to look Brett in the face. He's best friend with  _Liam_ , he really isn't used to looking up to talk to people.

"I know, right? I mean, I play lacrosse, and there are few of us who aren't in the frat," he shrugs, hands Mason the wine again. "But it's fun, and I get my own room, and we have an actual kitchen. That'd be cool if I knew how to cook."

"My roommate is a great cook, but anything outside of a microwave is banned in the dorms," Mason comments --Liam's been talking of sneaking in with an electric stove for like six months, but Mason doesn't think it's a good idea. He says this to Brett, who laughs out loud.

"The rooms are way too cramped here, you'd end up forgetting your notes over it and starting a fire," Brett says, smiling, while Mason goes to drink a little more wine. It feels like the first long drink worked, because he's not embarrassed anymore. He puts the bottle down,

"That's what I've been saying!" Mason says, grinning. The conversation slowly falls into the funniest anecdotes they've heard since they've been at college.

A guy from Brett's lacrosse team, Danny, hacked the college's official page to replace all the teachers' pictures with cartoons that his friend made of them. ("I saw the drawings! It was Kira Yukimura, right? I asked her but she refused to admit it.")

Mason tells him about how Liam met his crush (he's got pictures of campus security dragging them away, bloody faces and black eyes and still yelling at each other); and about that time Boyd, the RA, had to call the ambulance because one of the guys broke his leg trying to jump down the stairs on his skateboard.

"Also, there's these two... Delgado, who's in the dorm above mine, has a bet with this girl, Reyes... I don't know if they're trying to get the Chicano Studies TA to hook up with them or to transfer colleges, really, but the poor guy looks pretty stressed out about it all the time."

"Hale? God, that guy is stressed about everything."

"Right?"

Mason hasn't really registered the moment when he ended up sitting next to Brett, doesn't think about it until they're laughing and his knee bumps against Brett's thigh. Their shoulders are touching. Brett's smile is kinda crooked, and Mason is starting to feel buzzed again --though the bottle is still more than half fool. He thinks ' _hey, if I leaned closer, maybe,_ ' and the same thought must cross Brett's head, because he's leaning closer too.

"Fuck you!" someone yells from the corridor. There are multiple loud noises --more yelling, laughter, things hitting other things and maybe a couple people-- and a girl whose last name Mason thinks might be Tale (Late? Tate?) rushes past the open bathroom door, straddling a rolly chair and spilling beer everywhere. Wheels rattling loudly on the wooden floor, a second girl appears and disappears just as quickly as the first.

Mason turns his head back to Brett, eyebrows raised. "Frat parties are kinda intense," he comments, one hundred percent aware that the guy is like two inches away from his face and grinning at him. Mason thinks ' _fuck it_ ', and closes the gap. Maybe just a little bit too fast.

Brett leans back with the kiss --their noses bump and Mason tilts his head--, he's got his lips parted and his tongue tastes like the sparkling wine and maybe rum.

Mason's still got the bottle in his right hand, so he shifts a little more so he can reach with his right and hold onto Brett's shoulder. It's a poorly calculator movement, though. They're both leaning too much, too far, and Brett is taller than Mason is, and the stupid bottle is on the way. Brett grabs on his right arm to steady himself, but he's lost all balance. He slips off the border of the bathtub, dragging Mason down with him, knocking teeth in the way.

Brett tries to take hold of something, but he only makes more of a mess. A couple shampoo bottles clatter as they fall from the shelf over their heads, and Mason's hand slips when he tries to grab the tap. Brett hoofs when he hits his head on the shower wall, and Mason bumps his right shoulder and spills half of the sparkling wine. 

"Nerds!" the girl in the rolly chair yells as she wheels herself past the door again. One of the shampoo bottles is open, and now Mason's jeans (and Brett's shirt) are covered in sparkling wine. "Malia!" the second girl yells, and whatever apology either Mason or Brett planned to make is lost in a fit of giggles.

"Come on," Brett says, breathless and grinning, his shirt covered in wine and his torso bent awkwardly. Their legs hang over the bathtub border and Mason is sure he bumped his head against something, but he lets himself be pulled by the back of the neck and this time they actually get to kiss for more than a second. 

Brett does taste like rum, and lemon, and Mason smiles into the kiss until Brett's tugging at his lower lip with his teeth. Mason shifts --he slips on the wet tiles and Brett laughs against his neck-- because the stupid bottle is still in the way and probably still spilling. It takes them almost five minutes to realize the tap's open. Water is pooling around them and the shampoo is turning into bubbles everywhere.

The flash of a cellphone camera lights up the room for a second, and Mason turns to find Liam --and Hayden-- standing at the door, grinning. "That's for the fight pics," Liam says, before pocketing his phone and running off, and Brett starts laughing. "Dunbar!" Mason calls, but any attempt at getting out of the bathtub ends up with more slipping. Brett stretches over him to close the tap, and Mason takes the chance to pull him down again. He's got plenty of time to murder his best friend tomorrow.


End file.
